


My First and Last

by aprilwinks (sleepysauce)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: First Crush, First Love, Fix-It, M/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysauce/pseuds/aprilwinks
Summary: Kurapika didn’t know how he got here. One minute he was laying in bed, cuddling on top of his husband’s chest, and the next minute he was in no man’s land. Not to mention, the fact that he traveled back in time for no reason other than the fact that the universe loves messing with him. And of course, the only man that might've had answers to his questions is a child.
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika
Comments: 211
Kudos: 472





	1. My First

**“In that book which is my memory, On the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you, Appear the words, ‘Here begins a new life’.”**

— Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova

* * *

Kurapika didn’t know how he got here. One minute he was laying in bed, cuddling on top of his husband’s chest, and the next minute he was in no man’s land.  
He scoured the vast land. The area was full of trash and desolation. The city’s belly was full to the brim with chunks of metal and organic matters that laid to rot. It was a dumping ground.

  
Kurapika stiffened in realization. Kuroro’s tales of his hometown whirled around in his head. It took careful questions and long nights to rouse Kuroro about his hometown. The man preferring to keep his upbringing silent-especially the events that transpired in his hometown.

  
He discouraged him from traveling there, citing the reasons for his protection. but Kurapika was never one to fear from fire. He drank in it. And what better place than to understand the man than the very place he grew up in?

**Ryūseigai**

A place for the deserted. Whether it be trash, bodies or…memories.

It was the birthplace of Kuroro and the Spiders. Kurapika paused, there must have been a reason why he was transported here. He doubts that Kuroro, his husband, would have teleported him without him knowing. And even if he did, why here?

Kurapika used ‘Gyo’. He didn’t feel a familiar nen surrounding him. He didn’t feel any nen at all, save for his own. He scratched his head and flinched when violent winds blew a busted car to his right.

But first, Kurapika blocked the sun’s harsh rays with his hands, he should find shelter from the sweltering heat.

He summoned Dowsing Chain and asked for the nearest civilization. It pointed ahead. He walked on, following his chain and folded his coat over his head.

Crows flew overhung from him. Stink filled his nostril and he gagged at the intensity of the smell. Harsh winds whipped around him and Kurapika started running towards the wrecked towers.

Kurapika coughed into his hands, a trail of blood leaked out. Who could have forgotten Ryūseigai’s pollution? He was born and raised in the fresh fields. Sunlight beamed down and rivers caressed his feet below, but this, Kurapika stopped at a wrecked car and hid down from the sun’s boiling streaks.

This was hell.

Which coincidentally was where Kuroro came from. It made perfect sense. How this harsh environment led to how Kuroro became the insufferable husband he is today.

He ripped a piece of his white undershirt and wrapped it around his mouth. He inhaled; he could still taste the tang of bitter air but gulped down. This would work.

He walked through mounds of trash and stopped when he heard rustling. Followed by a loud bang. Kurapika stilled. Whoever was making these noises were close. Kurapika strained his eyes to see where they were. He turned to the alley and peered in.

There were 4 grody men, and a smaller figure obscured by one of the larger men. They were pushing the child to the floor and then threw him to the wall. Kurapika’s anger flared. They were harming a child? Kurapika forced his anger to cool down. He needed to see where this goes. He has grown a lot from the child that threw himself into anger.

He had to wait and see for the perfect opening. No matter how much he didn’t like it.

“Pay up, kid.” A gruff voice resounded across from Kurapika. He lowered himself on the floor.

A debt? Is that how Ryūseigai functioned?

But to a _child_ no less?

Kurapika glared. He waited for an opening. A slender man brought his hands around the child’s neck and twisted. Kurapika clenched his knuckles, his chains materializing as he saw who the child was.

It was **Kuroro**.

Well, younger Kuroro. He didn’t look to be older than 12. Kurapika tensed. He has somehow traveled back in time. To about 16 years ago. Where Kuroro was a child and he an infant.

Kurapika stopped thinking when Kuroro’s struggled gasps reverberated in the alley.

Kurapika sprinted and quickly knocked out the man strangling the boy and punched the other assailant’s face into the wall.

Kuroro watched, astonished. Kurapika glanced over to him, grimacing at the harsh lines on the boy’s neck.

“Are you okay?”

He stopped staring and nodded. He sprang up as if he wasn’t being strangled a second ago and went for the small man frozen in shock.

Kurapika threw down the rising slender man, who sunk his blade across Kurapika’s coat and stopped at the cry of Kuroro’s soft voice.

“I can’t let him escape!” Kuroro said with urgency in his voice, the smaller man in fear, began manifesting his aura. Kurapika hurriedly wrapped him in his Dowsing chain and pulled him back towards him.

Kuroro stood shocked and until he was brought to his sense by the cries of the smaller man and walked towards him.

Kurapika, already figuring out that the boy wanted his nen, tightened his hold on the man and waited.

Kuroro however, kept staring at the shiny chains on Kurapika’s hand.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be a conjuror.”

Kurapika was taken aback. A shaky smile formed as the surprise sunk in. He already knew about Nen. And at such a young age, he was reminded of two other

prepubescent boys. His mind drew to a halt, gazing at the littered men around him. Kurapika couldn’t be too surprised. He had to survive somehow.

“How did you know I could use Nen?” Kurapika asked, his chains dangling over the captured man.

Kuroro pulled on the struggling man’s hand and whipped out his red book. He stretched the man’s hand to the book cover and smiled. Kurapika unfazed thought

which ability he thought it could have been. Perhaps, his disappearing ability?

Kuroro thought hard, he rubbed his hands with his chin in deep thought. “I felt your presence for some time.”

Kuroro grinned at him. “It’s hard to miss, your power...it’s unmistakable.”

Kurapika curated his head. He took a closer look at the boy. He wore ill-fitted clothes as if he stole them from someone older and larger. His hair was swept back to

display his cross. Kurapika stilled at the cuts and bruises exposed by the raggedness of his clothes.

He wanted nothing more than to swaddle him in fresh and warm clothes.

“So chains?” Kuroro asked. Something in Kuroro’s eyes twinkled.

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, they serve my purpose well.” or at least they did. Until Kurapika fell in love with the man he swore to destroy. But they still came in handy for the most part.

Kuroro having done stealing the person’s Nen stood up and walked towards him.

“So what was his nen ability?”

Kuroro stopped walking. Although Kuroro still didn’t show much emotion, this Kuroro was young and inexperienced. He flittered through many emotions: astonishment, intrigue, and surprise.

Kuroro smiled. The first real smile the boy showed Kurapika.

“I see, this man,” Kuroro pointed half haphazardly at the fallen man, “can teleport anywhere he wants to as long as he memorizes where.”

Kurapika nodded, he recognized that ability. He still remembered the thrill of using it when Kuroro whisked him away from Tserriednich’s wraith. At the thought of his lover, Kurapika’s heart panged.

“How did you know?” said Kuroro a glint of interest shining in those silver eyes. There was a challenge in his voice and a test in his stance.

And Kurapika doesn’t shrink from challenges. “Why else would you let yourself be beaten?”

Kurapika walked towards him. His chains are gone, but he isn’t scared of the little boy. Having walked through and survived the Dark Continent, this little game was nothing to him. He already faced hell. He turned towards Kuroro and smiled easily.

Kuroro’s lips quipped.

“Than to let them have a false sense of security so they wouldn’t escape?” Kurapika answered.

Kuroro’s eyes brightened.“That’s good,” rubbed his chin and stared at Kurapika. He was analyzing him, his eyes drank in Kurapika’s form, and felt the shape of his aura. He was checking for something. Perhaps to see if had potential? But for what? The spiders?

Kurapika grimaced, even in this time-line, he still wouldn’t dare dream of joining the Phantom Troupe. But-skimming at the clawed lines on the boy’s necks stirred something within Kurapika.

He gently walked towards the boy and held out his Holy Chain. The boy relaxed at the presence and allowed his neck to be shown. Kurapika smiled and allowed his Nen to heal the boy’s injuries.

Kuroro nodded and smiled, seemingly pleased with the results. Kurapika took that as he passed the younger’s test.

“Your coat.” Kuroro pointed at Kurapika’s coat, his eyes traveled down until he felt a sizable rip. It must have been from the men’s knives, ripping into his fabric. It was nothing he couldn’t manage but Kuroro’s gaze was stern.

“Follow me, I know someone who can fix it.” Kurapika’s brows rose. Was it Machi? He knew that they have known each other since the start of the Spiders but he didn’t think that they have known each other this long. He wondered how Machi would be like in her teens, he didn’t think she would be much different from how she is now.

Kuroro having taken the man’s hesitation for nerves, reassured the man, placating him by saying: ”Don’t worry, she won’t attack you.”

Kuroro glanced at the pretty man. His stare was piercing his ripped coat and a slight sulk guttered as he said: “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

Kurapika smiled, Kuroro although he was much younger was still polite as ever. Perhaps by following the boy he could find out about how he time-traveled 16 years back. It was his only shot.

He followed the boy.

* * *

  
Kuroro frowned at the mysterious man’s attire. He wasn’t from around here, that much was obvious, his clothes were too brittle and his skin too fragile. The wind’s wicked whips strangled the fabric and flesh from all ends.

What was this strange man doing here? People come to Ryūseigai for a reason. But this man seemed like he didn’t have a reason being here at all. Kuroro was perplexed by the sudden turn of events.

And the man helped him even though he didn’t need any. And he healed him without asking for anything in return. Kuroro rubbed his fully-healed neck. And the man knew his Nen ability. But he sensed no hostility from the man at all.

But that begs the question: Why is this man here? He couldn’t be a tourist. People who come into his home to gawk at the impoverished children and dangle money at them as if it means anything.

Kuroro glanced back, the pretty man stared back. Startled, he continued walking with a slightly brisk pace.

No, he wouldn’t be one of them. Something about this man confuses him and it hasn’t been a long time since anyone made Kuroro Lucilfer curious. He needed to learn more about this man.

“So, what’s your name?”

Kuroro’s lips pinched. Should he give the man his name? Names meant something in Ryūseigai, it could lead you to places but it could also lead to your death. For now, he could settle on his first name, the man doesn’t need to know his last name yet. Not until he knows that the man doesn’t have any ulterior motives.

“Kuroro.” The man’s eyebrows slightly rose. As if surprised that the boy responded at all.

“No last name?”

“Some people don’t get the luxury.”

“Ah, I’m Kurapika.”

“That’s a pretty name.” It was melodious and pleasing to the ears. Kuroro silently repeated the name, it’s syllables smoothed over his lips like stones on water. He liked it.

“Nice to meet you.” Kuroro turned and held out his rough hands. Kurapika smiled and shook his hands. They were soft-definitely not from around here.

And warm too. Kuroro shook his head, now was not the time. He needs to pay back the kind stranger. It would give him time to observe him better.

They continued walking until they stopped at a fork in the road.

Kuroro suggested going right. He didn’t tell Kurapika that it was the closet shelter from the blazing sun.

Somehow he knew that the man wouldn’t have liked that. His skin while strong was starting to flake from the ends. Kuroro pulled the man along with the debris, towards a heap of trash.

Kurapika flinched at the stench. Kuroro tutted and like a mother cat, ushered Kurapika into the shelter. Kuroro could bet that the man didn’t even know that his skin was burning from the acrid heat.

He felt that the man had poor self-preservation skills. They entered a make-shift tent, the linings of the wall were once a shiny green turned mothy and grey from the sun. Inside, there were boxes and crates full of used medical equipment and cloth.

Kurapika stiffened at what he saw. Kuroro walked in front of him and pouted.

He studied Kurapika’s reaction to the sight before him. Gore unsettles him to some degree. But by the stern tightening of his lips, he is somewhat used to it. Interesting.

Machi was re-attaching a child’s severed leg. She had been working on him since the early morning. It was unusual for her to be so slow. Normally, she was quick but not much accurate.

But this, Kuroro smirked, this was gotten her attention.

The child’s hair hid most of his face. His clothes appeared to be a ripped potato bag. Kuroro crossed his arms, perhaps Machi felt sympathy for him? That wouldn’t be like her, but judging from the focused snap of her hands, she was dedicated to the task at hand.

He looked at her and received a shrewd glance Machi sent towards Kurapika’s way. They both have explaining to do.

“Hey, Machi, I need your help,” Kuroro said casually, guiding Kurapika to sit on the boxes.

Kuroro effortlessly ripped Kurapika’s coat off him and passed it to the girl. Kurapika sputtered at the action. She stopped threading and caught it easily.

“Can you repair this?”

She glared. “How much?”

“I’ll take the bill, I owe him for helping me.”

She stopped glaring and looked dazed. Kuroro stifled a grin, when was the last time he had seen the girl look this confused?

“You-” she pointed at him.“needed help. Okay” 

Kuroro nodded. “This is Kurapika,” Kurapika nodded at the introduction and Machi followed, “he helped me stop the men from yesterday.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced that Kuroro needed help saving. He could always explain to her later.

“And I’m repaying the favor.”

“Nice to meet you. Transmuter?”

Her eyes widened. She slowly nodded. Kuroro smiled they seemed to be getting along well.

He brought his hands to her. She shook them. Rather strongly too, he might add.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Machi looked over to him. She swirled her hands in a particular manner. He got her message.

“Kurapika could you bring the crate outside for me? It has my black threads.”

Kurapika understanding her intentions, calmly nodded and went outside.

She turned towards Kuroro. Her face tightened and then relaxed when Kurapika was out of sight.

“You want him in, don’t you?”

Kuroro smiled. He would be a great addition to his pet project.

“Was it that obvious?”

Machi flicked his nose in distaste. Kuroro didn’t give a reaction.

“You like him too.”

Kuroro pursed his lips. The man was interesting. That made him likable to him. Kuroro didn’t allow himself to think more about it, lest the feelings in his chest flutter once more.

“He is powerful and very intelligent too.”

Machi rolled her eyes but started tugging at a loose thread from her grey shirt. It was once pink.

“I trust you on that, but I’m not too sure.”

Kuroros face hardened. “Is it one of your hunches?”

She gave him an uneasy stare. Her hunches were never wrong. Kuroro guessed that she was descended from a family of fortune-tellers or at least that is what he weaves stories about. To children, bored in the streets, who somehow found an older brother figure in Kuroro.

“I’m not sure, he isn’t bad...but he is lying about himself.”

Kuroro looked down at his hands. He remembers the feeling of soft and warm hands. He could almost feel the ghost of affection in his touch. 

“Aren’t we all?”

She shook her head. She brought the coat to him and displayed it. There were slight traces of blood. Kuroro bit back a gasp. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

“He could be dangerous?”

“But we’re used to that already.” Kuroro countered he was getting tired of this. Kurapika was interesting and he could be the final piece to his little plan.

Machi gave him a hard stare.

“Fine, I’ll watch over him and if he passes my ‘test’, will you accept him then?”

Machi pouted then with careful deliberation, sighed in defeat and nodded. She started fixing the man’s jacket.

Kuroro grinned, victorious he called the man back in.

“Kurapika, could you help me with something?” The man was flushed from the sun’s heat and sat down wearily. Kuroro felt a pang of sympathy for him.

“What is it?”

“Machi needs medicine for the child, and I could use your assistance.”

Kurapika's gaze traveled to the sleeping child. His expression softened and he nodded. So he had a weakness for children, which would explain why he knocked the men down.

“Great! Let’s go before the sun sets.” He pushed open the tent flaps and walked away.

Before Kurapika could follow him out, Machi stopped him. She outstretched her hands and hesitated.

“Oh, and Kurapika?”

Kurapika glanced back at her, his golden locks swaying in the slight breeze, she fidgeted under his stare and returned his coat to him.

  
He took it gratefully and wore it. He smiled at her, she looked away and nodded. Satisfied that it had no rips, Machi went back to the sleeping child.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, take care.”

  
On second thought, maybe she wouldn’t take Kuroro’s money for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Let me start off by stating that there is NO ROMANCE between Kurapika and young! Kuroro. The most romance is Kuroro harboring a crush on our favorite Kurta, who just sees him as a baby.
> 
> 2\. The next chapter will be super fluffy! I have a thing for motherly Kurapika taking care of Kuroro.
> 
> 3\. The title is referring to the K-drama "Pretty Noona who buys me food." I don't know what happens in that drama, the name is super cute!
> 
> 4.talk to me or give me suggestions on my twitter: everlemon1  
> I'm really active on twitter, so don't hesitate to reach out!
> 
> 4\. I just wanted to write one scene but it just spiraled into it's own story. Oppps


	2. My First Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very pretty stranger buys and makes me food.

They have been walking for some while. Kurapika wondered where one might go to find black thread amongst the piles and piles of trash. It was like finding a needle in a haystack.

But he couldn't really pay attention to the surrounding when his mind was busy worrying over the slight tired limp the boy walked.

“Aren’t you hungry?'' At a closer look at the boy, his loose black sweater and pants hung too loose on his slim frame. His pale-not his usual rice skin but paler, sick, dead. Kurapika shudders, Kuroro tilts his head to his left.

“Yes, but I'm used to it.”

Kuroro didn’t survive and became the leader of the phantom troupe if he couldn’t handle starvation. Kurapika nodded, but at a second glance at the torn clothes, the way his fingers unconsciously curl at his stomach, he decides against it.

“Come,” Kurapika said he gave him a way out. He didn’t need to follow him if he wasn’t truly hungry but at the soft-almost silent-footsteps, Kurapika smiled.

“Where are the stalls?”

Kuroro walked a few steps and Kurapika followed after the boy. 

“What would you like to eat?” 

“You don’t have to, I insist.” Kuroro pouted, he crossed his arms together. He might have tried to give the impression of faux strength but Kurapika just found it endearing. He restrained not to pinch the boy’s cheeks.

“Well, then I insist as well,” Kurapika already drew out his wallet, Kuroro brows furrowed. Kurapika and then gently added, “You can pay me back...later.”

Kurapika didn’t specify when. Kuroro didn’t ask.

Kurapika softened when Kuroro shyly tilted his head toward the sweet food. He still had a sweet tooth. 

Kurapika flashed his hunter card. The marketer eyebrows rose but shook her head a second later.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t accept a Hunter card, please understand.”

Kurapika nodded. In a city where even trash is valuable, a hunter card may as well have been another muck in the trash pile. People here didn’t care for the intangibles, they only needed the tangibles. Things that would let them live for another day.

He glanced at Kuroro. He didn’t seem shocked at the hunter card, he may have well been expecting it.

Kuroro gazed back at the blond. He stopped his arms and walked a step closer.

“It’s okay. Thank you, anyway.” Kuroro replied although the boy would never admit it. Kurapika could detect a hint of remorse in his voice. The sound of a hopeful prospect shot down by Meteor city’s cruel unforgiving ways. A silent plea for a hot meal in his cold belly.

Kurapika’s lips tightened into a thin line. No one should go hungry. He tapped at his pockets and felt a large waddle in his pockets. Thank you, Kuroro from the future for his sugar-daddy ways.

Kurapika softly patted the boy’s dusty hair. “In that case, this will work right?” 

He handed the woman 100,000 Jennies. Her mouth fell comically open and briskly exclaimed: 

“Yes! What will it be?”

Kurapika grinned.

“Everything you have, please.”

She clapped her hands together in delight. Kuroro's eyebrows rose and flushed at the smile Kurapika sent his way.

The vendor started gathering the ingredients dutifully, casting grateful smiles to Kurapika’s way now and again. Kuroro recovered from the shock and turned his gaze towards the plentiful bag being prepared.

Kuroro just kept staring at all the food that was being made. Kurapika frowned. Kuroro was this happy over something that's a human right. Food.

“Here you go!”

She gleefully handed them their bags, Kuroro stubbornly refused to let Kurapika hold them. Citing the reason as “You bought them, it’s the least I can do.”

Kurapika sighed at the boy’s stubborn streak but fondly walked beside him. He would grow to be flexible in the future.

“Why did you buy so much?” 

Kuroro wondered out loud. They have been walking towards Kuroro’s hideout-Kurapika refused to call it a home-for for nearly 10 minutes. It would have been faster if they shared the bags but every glance at the bags Kuroro would walk 5 steps ahead. Already have read his mind.

“Don't’ you have friends to share it with?”

Kurapika didn’t mention the fact that those friends were spiders. Or did Kuroro meet them later? Kurapika wasn’t too sure of their timeline. Preferring to not ask and don’t tell as a mantra to their relationship.

Kuroro stilled. Kurapika had immediately tensed and looked around, sensing any danger, he used Gyo and found the area empty. He looked over to Kuroro.

“I...do.Thank you.” 

Kuroro stared hard into the ground. He looked back up and stared into Kurapika’s eyes. His eyes usually dark and empty were now swirling with emotions. He sensed grief, fear but also gratitude and if Kurapika would stare hard enough: quiet happiness.

Kuroro continued walking and Kurapika followed suit. The calm ruffles and shuffles of the food didn’t perturb either of them.

Kuroro’s home was...spacious to say the least. He walked into a clear inside and Kuroro gestured towards the kitchen.

Kurapika gathers the ingredients in his hands. Vegetables, meat, rice, and cooking oil. Kurapika smiled, he could work with this. 

He started making a Kurtan delicacy: it was what his mother make him when he was upset about not being able to explore the outside world. It was also Kuroro’s favorite. Kurapika glanced back at the younger version of his husband, he was reading a book he chose from the shelf.

Kuroro looked back at him, Kurapika smiled and returned to cooking.

Kuroro waddled over to the kitchen, he sniffed the air and quietly sighed.

Kurapika giggled. “Does it smell nice?”

Kuroro closed his eyes and nodded longingly, Kurapika smiled and ruffled the young one’s hair.

“It’s almost done. Here, have a taste.” Kurapika picked his spoon and blew on it before lowering it to Kuroro’s mouth.

He gulped it all in one bite.

His brows slightly furrowed at the steam, but he couldn’t stop the full smile reaching his teeth.

Kurapika sniggered. It was amusing to see that both Kuroro’s have the same exact reaction tasting his food. He couldn’t help the burst of affection that flooded him, watching Kuroro enjoy his cooking.

Kurapika paused-maybe Killua’s comments that he was motherly was right after all.

Kuroro tapped at Kurapika’s hands. He glanced down and his heart melted at the pout the boy sent him.

“May I have more, please?”

Kurapika laughed delightfully.

“Of course, here.” he gave him more spoonfuls of the dish, each new bite a pleasing sound escaped from the child’s mouth.

After the third spoonful, Kurapika stopped, he couldn’t stop his smile when he saw the pout adorning the boy’s face.

“Now, now, you will spoil your appetite.”

Kuroro used to disappointment, nodded, and stalked off.

“It will be done soon!” Kurapika called after him.

\---

When Kurapika finished his dish, he started to wonder where Kuroro has run off to. The boy was at the edge of the make-shift kitchen has just disappeared when he started washing the pots away.

Kurapika walked over to the living room, his eyes widened at the sight of a new table placed in the center. So this was what he was doing.

The table was old and rusted from the years of disuse. Kurapika touched the material; he smelled the acrid scent of chemicals. It was cleaned. On the table, there were plates and forks. Kurapika felt a surge of affection at the cleanliness of the table and the presentation.

Kuroro spent a lot of time on the display of the table. Was he trying to replicate a domestic scene that the boy never had? Kurapika's heart clenched at the loss of childhood for the child.

Kuroro peeked over from the door. Kurapika smiled at the eager look in the boy's eyes. He beckoned him to come.

"Lunch is ready," Kurapika said, carrying the meal to the table.

"Is it okay that I brought some friends over?" Kuroro shyly asked, petering over the entrance. Kurapika smiled, the spiders as children would be an amusing sight.

"Of course!" Kurapika said, bringing more plates in, "We have more than enough for everyone."

"It's okay, mister. I brought my own plate." 

Kurapika looked over to the voice. A small blond boy hid behind Kuroro, he held a cracked plate in his hands. 

Shalnark?

Behind him were Machi and the child she was fixing before.

"The more the merrier, "Kurapika mused, motioning the teenagers to the table.

Kuroro beamed at him. He stopped at the table, whereas the others shuffled onto the chairs. Kurapika started piling the food on each of the teenager's plates, he was careful to add a little more than necessary. God knows that these children would need the extra supplement.

After giving everyone their share of the food. Kurapika smiled at the sight. Shalnark was aghast at the cooked food-it was like it was the first time he has ever seen a cooked home meal before and Machi looked taken aback at the complicity of the food. The child, who Kurapika could now recognize as Kortopi was drooling a bit.

Kurapika sat on the left side and Kuroro immediately sat next to him. 

So that was why he was stalling. Kurapika grinned, satisfied at the meal he made. Some of the vegetables had gone bad and the cooking utensils were hard to find in the dingy kitchen. But Kurapika once had nothing too. He looked over to the table, everyone was hesitating or perhaps they were waiting for something?

Kuroro took a small bite, Kurapika rose his eyebrows. It seemed like he really enjoyed it before.

Kuroro then forwent his fork and manners and annihilated the dish. Kurapika didn't have the heart to reprimand him.

That must have been the signal as everyone started digging in. Shalnark who once seemed shy and aloof completely ravages the food like a starved wolf. Kortopi wasn't fairing better as he face-planted into the plate. Kurapika wasn't sure if it was even possible to eat like that.

Glancing at his right, Kurapika was glad to see that Machi was the only one with manners. She was the only one using the forks but wasn't impervious to the flavors that burst out of the food. Though as may she may hide it, Machi's brows rose at the intensity of the taste.

Kurapika was in good spirits as he took another bite of his meal. It felt good that the Spiders were appreciating his food, they were much more open in their reactions as teenagers than as adults in his current timeline. Like hell, they would complement his food back in his timeline.

Kurapika faced Kuroro's way and the sight warmed his heart. Kuroro, busy enthusiastically eating his meal, didn't even notice the stains on his face.

Kurapika used his sleeve to wipe the boy's cheeks and chin. He flushed at the soft attention and twiddled his thumbs under the table. His face was flushed like strawberries in summer and he kept looking at everything but Kurapika.

Kurapika grinned. It felt good that he was the one to make the other flustered. Usually, it was the other way around, Kuroro would always tease him and him a blushing mess.

"Was it good?"

Kuroro nodded vigorously, and Kurapika chuckled at the gesture.

Kuroro stopped eating. Kurapika tilted his head as the others stopped too.

"Excuse me," Kuroro said, he stood up from the table, bringing his plate with him and the others followed him. Kurapika flabbergasted, rose up, and followed them out of the make-shift building.

Kurapika was surprised to see a group of children waiting outside the building. They wore ripped clothing and were covered head to toe in dust and debris.

Kuroro bent down and offered one of the children his plate. The young girl shyly walked over to him and gleefully ate some of the dishes. The Spiders rounded the children and offered their remains. 

The children were cheering and some had to slow down from eating too quickly. Machi patted the children's heads and Shalnark giggled alongside the children.

Kuroro glanced back at Kurapika and smiled.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I changed the title from Pretty Stranger Who Buys Me Food to My First and Last-as in Kurapika is Kuroro's first and last love.
> 
> 2.talk to me or give me suggestions on my twitter: everlemon1  
> I'm really active on twitter, so don't hesitate to reach out!


	3. My First Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroro has feelings and is confused.

Kurapika frowned. And for some reason that upset Kuroro. His clear face turned rigid and distraught as if he was thinking of something unpleasant. Kuroro knows that gaze-he has seen people lost in the past, thinking of things they could never have or get back. 

He remembers the stony chill of their bones jutting out and the vacant eyes that traveled back in time. He turns towards Kurapika's tightened face and frowns. He does not want that to happen to him. His face should be clear and fresh-like with the breeze and greenery outside of Ryūseigai. Kuroro has only seen pictures from worn-out books but he imagines that Kurapika thrives off it.

"You know," Kuroro began, staring at the ring on Kurapika's finger. "If it were me,"

Kurapika takes a second to look back on the boy, completely missing the way he is glaring daggers at the ring.

He scowls at the simplicity of the gold ring wrapped around the man's slim finger. It was a rose gold tinted with specks of diamond tracings and a ruby centered, shining similar to Kurapika's earring. It was pretty and expensive judging by the fine cut but-

something about it makes Kuroro's insides clench. It wasn't the design that bothered him but rather the implications. Someone out there was lucky enough to bind themselves with Kurapika...for life. For some reason, he can't shake off the unpleasant feelings worming inside of him.

"I would be way nicer than that guy."

But what else could upset the strange man other than that tie that bound him. The glaring sun, withering winds, and choking air while affected the man didn't faze his resolve. It was something else that bore into his soul.

Perhaps the lover was dead? Ryūseigai was a place for the forgotten. It was where many would come to die, no one would remember them and that brought them some peace. Kuroro tried not to get jittery over the prospect.

What Kurapika did next, however, completely shocked him.

He laughed.

Like a flute. Or a song he could once remember as a child in his mother's arms or even the distant calls of the waves of beaches he once read about. It was a lilting sound and Kuroro had to pause and hear it.

Kurapika's laughs flittered into sweet chuckles. As if he was amused by the whole situation, his eyes half-lidded smiled at Kuroro. He returned the smile, although it wasn't as bright as his. Kuroro didn't understand the laughter. It was like he wasn't in on the joke.

"Yes, you are nicer than that guy," Kurapika repeated with a certain tone in his voice that held history and secrets that Kuroro couldn't comprehend. He crossed his arms, he would need to find out later. 

Kuroro stops for a second, frowning at the slight burn of the other's skin, he ushers them under a canopy of accumulating trash. Kurapika this time, didn't object and let himself be led under the welcoming shade.

"Yes, much nicer," Kurapika said with certainty and an eclipsing feeling overcame Kuroro. This feeling was rather nice and pleasant, he preened at the compliment and happily took in the other's praise like a flower to the sun.

\---

The sun was driving east-towards the clouds and closer to Kurapika. Kuroro frowned, he couldn't last any longer in this weather. Kuroro has to decide now. The tunnel's entrance reeked of danger, there was no light reflecting back and darkness engulfed the tunnel. Kuroro took a step back.

"I have to go alone for this," Kuroro said slowly, enunciating every word carefully to make Kurapika absorb all of it.

They have been walking for a while now. After the pleasant lunch, Shalnark needed to leave for an errand and Machi was still waiting for her black threads. It took a lot of convincing to let Kurapika out of the safe house. Kuroro tugged on Kurapika's sleeve until they were finally out the door.

"Are you sure about this? It was my coat. I should help-"

"No, I too have old debts to repay." Kuroro interrupted, he walked closer to the trash tent and turned towards Kurapika's way.

"I'll be okay," Kurapika's eyes narrowed in worry, Kuroro quickly added, "I promise."

Kurapika sighed, resigned at the strong confidence the boy displayed, and eventually let go. The hidden confidence that a boy that young shouldn't have. Kurapika crossed in arms in defeat.

"Be back in 10 minutes, if you don't, I'll come and find you." 

_Like I always do._

Kuroro nodded. The words held something-it was as if those words had been said between them millions of times with millions of different meanings. Kuroro could almost smirk - there was always something new about Kurapika.

There is always something new to learn. 

Kuroro smiled, grateful. He couldn't wait to understand more of this man. Like a puzzling mystery novel, Kuroro felt like he could get lost in Kurapika. He met Kurapika's heavy gaze and nodded. He could do this.

"Okay." 

And with that, Kuroro entered the gray inside and took a tiny look back. Kurapika was still waiting (patiently like a dog for its owner).

Kuroro crinkled his loose coat, Shalnark quietly passed it to him when Kurapika wasn't looking. Kuroro brought his heavy book from his coat and walked on. Deeper into the tunnel.

The book was grainy under his touch. There were rumors that a certain old man with eyes for knowledge would wait under the car wreck's tunnel for valuable treasure.   
The old man especially eyed old and lengthy books.

Kuroro frowned-it was a long book, it would certainly satisfy the old man's tastes but it was also Kuroro's oldest book. 

Kuroro hit a dead-end. He stilled, he heard a rustle of clothes until-

an old man gently peered down from a heap of trash. He looked unassuming but Kuroro felt the dizzying stream of power emanating from the man. Kuroro clenched his book tighter unconsciously.

"Kuroro-the boy king, what have you got for me?"

"Calming oil-from the sun and wind."

The old man, Kuroro could never get his name no matter how hard he tried, only pursed his lips.

"Someone new?"

Kuroro nodded, the answer was obvious, citizens who couldn't last the weather weren't real Ryūseigai people. 

But a vision of a summer laugh and soft hair tucked between ears breezed through Kuroro. He could do this. Kuroro kept repeating these words like a mantra. _Do it for him._ Kurapika wasn't used to Ryūseigai. He badly needed help. and Kuroro would be more than happy to give it.

The old man's eyes twinkled. 

"The look in your eyes changed."

Kuroro didn't care enough to respond. He could feel the thin implications lingering in the air. In Ryūseigai, it was taboo to go out of your way for someone, especially when you could barely fend for yourself. But it was for _Kurapika_ -there were always exceptions.

"I see," Kuroro replied, gently letting go of his favorite book. He could steal it back one day.

With no reply, the old man gave the oily cream. Kuroro let a little spray on his worn arm. It stayed cool under the winds. Satisfied, he placed it in his pocket and nodded his thanks at the old man.

But when he looked back, the elder was gone.

Kuroro's brows furrowed. Strange. But he saw strange things and he could detect a slight nen trace where the elder had left. A mystery for another time. He turned to leave.

Kuroro patted his pocket to check and walked on. The beginning of a smile was forming on his cherub face. He couldn't wait to see Kurapika's reaction-perhaps he could get something in return for his troubles?

Kuroro didn't even notice that he was smiling until Kurapika told him about it later.

\---

"Here." Kuroro placed the oil onto Kurapika's flaky hands. Despite the heat bearing its mark on the man, his skin was still soft. Kuroro has never felt anything as soft as those hands.

Kurapika was astonished, to say the least. He warmed the oil with his hands and applied it on his arms. Kuroro leaned in closer, and the calming agent quietly went to work. Kurapika's skin was woven into delicate pale skin again.

Any sign of the harsh sun was erased from his flesh. Kuroro smiled. His skin wasn't made for Ryūseigai's unforgiving temper. His eyes trailed to Kurapika's blond locks. Just how far did Kurapika come from? How far did he go? and why?

These questions kept bugging Kuroro ever since he met the man. Kurapika had the poise of someone who came to places with a purpose. An overseeing all bearing purpose. Yet, Kurapika seemed lost in a world he didn't understand.

_It didn't make any sense._

"Why did you come here?" Kuroro asked, tasting the bitter words in his mouth. He tried to make it sound as polite as possible, he truly was thankful that Kurapika came but he wanted to know why he came.

Kurapika coughed, his lungs burned from the acidic air. Kuroro stiffened. He was a fool.

He could see Kurapika's skin flaying but not his insides. His lungs were probably scraping from the toxicity and his heart burned from it. How could Kuroro be so blind?

Kurapika was suffering here. He may not act like it, but Kurapika isn't supposed to be here. How could he dare act and imagine that Kurapika would _actually_ want to stay here?

_With him?_

He probably lived somewhere far away.

With oceans, trees, and flowers blossoming whenever he walked by them. He seemed like the sort who could just smile and flowers would bloom to see him.

Ryūseigai was killing him slowly. 

Kuroro was selfish enough to want him to stay.

"I...came here to see an old friend." Kurapika supplied, awkwardly scratching his neck. Kuroro frowned at the gesture. 

He wasn't lying - but it wasn't the whole truth either. What friend could warrant a trip to Ryūseigai? And despite Kuroro's tries, he couldn't suppress the bile of jealousy that tore in him.

A friend of Kurapika's cared to the point of meeting in the outcast's domain. Kuroro's thoughts went back to the shiny ring that glittered almost too perfectly at the sun's rays. It will always come back to this. Kuroro gritted his teeth.

Lucky bastard.

\---

Kuroro was thinking of faces. Who hasn't had their debts paid yet? He was walking side by side with Kurapika. His mood seemed to have brightened from the oil. His skin was healed-flush and alive. Because of Kuroro.

And now, where could he find medicine for him...

Machi still hasn't gotten her black threads yet-Kuroro paused. Gears started turning on his head and he stopped at a pile of metal.

"You could heal." 

It was a fact. It was one of the first things Kurapika did to Kururo-he _helped_ him as if he was a child. People don't help each other in Ryūseigai for anything. There were debts to be collected and blood to be traded.

Kuroro turned to look at the pretty man.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you heal yourself from your sunburns?"

Kurapika frowned. 

"I wasn't aware that I had sunburns," Kurapika explained, trying to calm the boy down.

"No, you would have, you're observant and smart," Kuroro paused, his heart racing at the _implications._ Kuroro glared down at the ground. As if it could swallow his feelings.

"Do you not care about yourself!?" Kuroro knew those people who threw themselves down into fire to warm others. Kurapika seemed like the martyr type. Self-sacrificing.

Kuroro's lungs burned at the thought of Kurapika...hurting.

Kurapika, shocked by the outburst. He smiled-Kuroro frowned, he wasn't supposed to smile or laugh and Kuroro isn't supposed to feel like this.

There were butterflies and birds flying over him and he felt like he is in clouds. Warm and fluffy. But empty. There was no substance.

"Don't worry about me," Kurapika moved closer to satiate the boy but he stepped away.

"No, please take care of yourself," Kuroro said finally. He couldn't believe that he yelled like that. He always kept his emotions sealed in a glass jar. He could observe them. Fascinating. However, it's useless in a city like Ryūseigai.

Kurapika was messing with everything. He destroyed his emotions jar and let these thoughts and feelings and fantasies fly wild.

"Okay," Kurapika said, wrapping his warm arms around his shoulders. 

Kuroro flinched at the contact and looked at the blond.

"I'll take care of myself..."

Kurapika squeezed Kuroro's lithe body. Kuroro bit his lips, he let go of his resolve and cradled Kurapika's arms.

if you take care of yourself first."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i tried a new writing style-more flowy and flowery? I wasn't feeling my old style and I wanted to experiment a bit.
> 
> 2\. so much introspection-fun but boring 
> 
> 3\. since there were so much fluff i wanted to add some angst? pain to offset it or rather make it more sweet
> 
> 4.talk to me or give me suggestions on my twitter: everlemon1  
> I'm really active on twitter, so don't hesitate to reach out!


	4. My First Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroro makes a promise on his life.

  
Before Kurapika came, Kuroro didn't know that there was something missing. A Kurapika shaped hole formed in his heart- his absence would tear at him in his veins. It was something Kuroro could only see around. If he tried to look directly at it, all he would see is emptiness.

But now there was a before and after in his life. The time before he met Kurapika and after. It was astounding how little he knew of him and yet he has already changed his life.

Kuroro squinted at the moonbeams pouring down on him. They walked back to his home - medicine easily salvaged by one of Kurapika's intriguing chains-Dowsing chain. It was a spectacle seeing Kurapika expertly use his Nen. 

There was a growing pride in watching Kurapika easily find medicine and an ever-increasing softness when he handed it out to a sick maiden when they passed the garbage truck.

But Kuroro felt an old pool of anger lash at him- watching Kurapika sweetly take care of others while he let himself rot stirred something in him. Kuroro always made sure to silence his anger. Ryuuseiyai does not believe in tears. It believes in survival.

If Kuroro can't convince Kurapika to take care of himself then there is only one option left. Kuroro hardened his fists and let his aura spiral around him. He will need to get stronger. He spied a traveler walking past them and from the slight tilt of his head back at them-Kuroro knew. If he wants to get stronger he will need all the powers he can get.

He brushed off Kurapika's question with a poor excuse that both of them knew was a lie. Kurapika's eyes narrowed but he allowed him to go. Kuroro smiled- there was a spot in Kuroro's black heart reserved for Kurapika. And with the trusting smile, Kurapika sent his way - it only grew day by day.

\---

  
Kuroro gently closed the door behind him. He patted his pocket satisfied at a well-executed quest. The traveler turned out to be Hunter and not only that his nen proved to be quite powerful. Kuroro smiled to himself. This would keep Kurapika safe.

The traveler put up a good fight and Kuroro would never admit that he may have let himself be scrapped a little so that Kurapika could heal him again. He made a show of letting his scar show on his fore head. It was next to his cross. It was impossible to miss.

The new nen he acquired would help with Kurapika's condition. It was healing in nature and while he could heal himself, the thought of Kurapika soft hands caressing his forehead would be too sweet to miss.

Kuroro walked over to the large living room. Already he could hear the muffled noises growing louder as he stepped closer and saw-

Kurapika in the middle of the living room with Kortopi fawning over him. Machi was by the wall, disinterested, and was fixing dark jeans with her black threads. 

Kortopi raised his tiny arms up at Kurapika and bounced a bit, pouting at the curious expression Kurapika sent his way. Kurapika gingerly wrapped protective arms around the toddler and rose him up in the ceiling.

Kortopi happily gurgled. Kurapika carried him and warmly cradled him in his soft arms, much like a mother would. Heat bloomed in Kuroro's cheek as Kurapika met his gaze.

"Oh, you're back!" Kurapika said, placing Kortopi on his left arm and waving his right.

"Yes, it was easier than I expected." Kurapika's brows furrowed-he understood the implicit: I got what I wanted.

"That's good, here why don't you take Kortopi? I'll make dinner." 

Before Kuroro could reply, Kortopi angrily cried out "No! Only Pika!" hugging the stunned man harder, wrapping his arms around him like an octopus.

"He thinks Kuroro is smelly," Machi replied, still threading the needle through the pants expertly. She didn't even bother glancing up at them.

"We're all lacking hygiene."

At that Kurapika tilted his head to a perfect 45-degree angle. Kuroro rose his eyebrows and quickly added, "Except for you!"

Machi rose an eyebrow, unimpressed. Kurapika chuckled, he hushed the wailing Kortopi and cradled his grey locks soothingly.

Kuroro smiled at the domestic scene. It was something out of a book- the ones he reads and dreams about. The ones where children have homes to return to, meals ready, and arms ready for comfort.

Maybe this could be it.

A loud slam reverberated through the living room. Kuroro quickly turned on his heel, summoning his updated red book. Kuroro grinned, this was the perfect time to demonstrate his newfound abilities. 

"Hey! I want Uppies too!" Shalnark boasted, out of the door and jumping up on Kurapika's arms.

Kuroro sighed, his book vanished as Shalnark pushed Kortopi away-the two battling for Kurapika's attention and arm space.

Shalnark never warmed up to others this easily, as nice as he acted, he already kept his heart closed. Yet, Kurapika seemed to be an exception.

Machi rolled her eyes at the raucous display, but Kuroro could see a vainly hidden smile forming at the edges. Kurapika had that effect. He made others lose their guard and feel guarded? safe? happy?

Kuroro shook his head. Whatever it was, Kurapika brought out a light and Kuroro has never seen the living room shine so brightly before.

Kuroro watched as Kurapika then carried Shalnark in his arms. The young boy was waving frantically for Kuroro to notice him, excited shouts of "Look at how high I am!" were waft around in the room. While Kortopi struggled to kick Shalnark away.

Kuroro laughed. This was the beginning.Of many things, he looked at Kurapika and his heart smiled.

  
\---

The night was falling. Time for the night-crawlers to come, or at least that's what Kuroro calls those filthy scavengers. Hunting at night and picking off anyone out in the open.

Machi guarded the doors. It was her turn to do so, Kuroro already called the others to rest. Soon it would be his turn to sit vigil.

Kuroro redirected his head to the living room.

Shalnark was snoozing loudly- his head comfortable cushioned on Kurapika's arm. To his right was Kortopi grasping Kurapika's warm coat. It took a while for them to stop fighting and even more when they both wanted to sleep with Kurapika.

Kurapika thankfully dealt with the situation before Machi could cut both their hands off. They resolved to have Kurapika in the middle, cloth, and rags strewn together into a mock bed.

Kuroro sighed at the image. If only he could have gotten more cloth. He should provide more for him. He already gave him so much. His heart clenched as a shiver rocked through Kurapika's body.

  
Kuroro slowly unzipped his warmest jacket off. He glanced at Kurapika’s shivering form and frowned. Meteor city residents get used to the deadly winds and pollution: the city spoke to them. 

Survive or die.

Kuroro’s skin has already roughed up from the sun’s bleaching rays and the wind’s powerful sears. But, holding out Kurapika’s flimsy coat he sighed. He seemed to have been sheltered from the cruel world. 

His skin was soft as-Kuroro stopped. He was puzzled. He doesn’t think he has ever felt anything soft. He could only remember and feel hardness. A scrap of the stone walls piercing his skin as he slept, the hard pipes cutting into his hair as he showered and the solid mass of metal he steals from the older children.

But, Kurapika was soft. He wasn’t fragile-no the man wouldn’t have survived this long in Meteor city if he was. Plus, eyeing the shiny hunter card, hunters were strong they had to be to become one. He should remember to note down hunters later.

Kuroro caressed the blond’s cheek, he was warm and...pretty. Kuroro shook his head. He had no time, no place for these thoughts. He has known of survivable companionship. But whatever he begins to feel for the blond man is different. 

He has heard of love stories. People get bored, they grow hopeful in this bleak world so they tell stories. Kuroro has heard them all: princesses getting saved by their princes and many others. 

But this wasn’t a story world. This was real, hard, and cruel.

But Kuroro couldn't help but brood. He carefully memorizes each line on Kurapika's flawless face, each crease wrapped in his warm hands and the little dimples sprouting from his secret smile. He saves these moments and saves them up. He gathers them like droplets of water in a desert. And when Kurapika is gone, he can return to his oasis.

But, Kuroro gently lowered his jacket on to the sleeping male. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t be cruel.

\---

Kuroro hardly ever dreams. His sleep is quick and alert. At the slightest decibel of a sound, he springs up mechanically and whips out his book. Yet this team, his dreams are filled with cloud-like softness. Seeping into his pores, he dreams of Kurapika filling his belly with delicious treats, him healing his wounds with the cool gentleness of a stream, and Kurapika gazing at him with warmth and devotion.

And of course, his other friends are there. But at the center, the focal point is Kurapika, the others are blurry at best.

Kuroro long used his dreams as an escape. He read about lucid dreaming-controlling your dreams to your heart's content. And so he dreamed of the world, treasures and now...Kurapika.

He imagines holding his hand and walking through vast terrains and splashing water at him as he races him to a river. They could hunt fish- large and bountiful, a place where fruits bloom throughout all the seasons and they could witness every season full bloom.

Kuroro would brush flowers off of Kurapika's hair in spring. Kuroro has read of pink flowers fluttering in April and the sky open and inviting. And in summer, they would travel around the world. Sun blazing at them but this time it won't hurt Kurapika's skin, it would reflect his glass-like skin. 

When autumn rolled around, they could crunch leaves under their feet. Kuroro focused on matching Kurapika's elegant strides with his. Side by side they would walk together into winter. 

Kuroro felt that the once romantic books that alluded him, finally made sense. He never drank the forbidden alcoholic drinks yet the way the books describe them made sense. He felt drunk, delirious on this feeling-this rush of whirling emotions.

  
Where Kuroro would embrace Kurapika with all the fire burning inside him.

He feels fire crackling in his ribs-this pining similar to a story he once read of a girl and a matchstick. Kuroro blows the matchstick and he sees Kurapika and him only.

Then he feels the crack of icy electric blue. He wakes up. If dreams could shatter, he sees the dull grey floor and the even duller ceiling. There is a scream trapped in his throat.

How could he be so foolish to dream?

And yet

The ache in his back was gone. The floor wasn't the familiar hard stone pressed against his body. He moved his head and gasped.

Kurapika was holding him.

Cradling his body next to his, Kuroro could hear his heartbeats. Kurapika was sitting upright, Kuroros tiny frame on Kurapika chest. Kurapikas arms around his neck and back-placed perfectly between them.

Kuroro snuggled closer to him. He wrapped his pale arms around the man, bringing him closer and closer as close as he can manage. He wished his arms could extend as wide as the sky. He wanted to cover all of Kurapika.

Kurapika's breath rose and fell- it was softer than the breeze. Kuroro inhaled his breaths. From this angle, Kurapika looked even more gentle. Kuroro touched his flaming face, his scar was healed. The warm sunlight showcasing the man in angel light.

Scratch that- he was an angel.

That day, Kuroro made a promise. He made a promise on his life that Kurapika would be his last. He would make sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. im slowly losing inspiration and ideas for this fanfic so...
> 
> 2\. I need suggestions BADLY
> 
> 3\. if you want this fic to continue, please comment some suggestions or anything!
> 
> (T_T)


	5. My First Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika meets someone he has been dreading and all Kuroro does is worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooop!
> 
> I'm back with another chapter!

  
Kurapika was adjusting smoothly to Kuroro's friends-no family. They were family to him. And now Kurapika is a part of the family. Kuroros' lips started to move on their own and his eyebrows lifted comically at the thought. 

He was with them.

But first, he needed to meet with the rest. Shalnark and Kortopi were the test subjects, scientifically speaking they were the easiest to persuade and easiest to warm up to. Plus, with Machi's approval, Kuroro's careful plan is set in motion.

Slowly the gears shifted - Kuroro warmly leaned back in his chair. Full and satisfied at a full meal, Kuroro stared at the clean plate before him. This time it was a sweet and sour dish made with meat and wheat. Kuroro was skeptical of the ingredient choices but he trusted Kurapika with it.

Kuroro couldn't even remember the cold, unquenching feeling of hunger now. The warm meal was happily situated inside his belly and Kuroro ached to sleep. But now, he had to do something.

"Kurapika, would you mind-"

Kuroro couldn't finish his sentence before being brought down by a familiar brown blur. The ceiling was quite pretty from this point of view, he was hoisted up by the same boy that brought him up.

Kurapika was unblinking.

"So this is the famous Kurpaika!" a rumbling voice barked out, Kurapika stilled and Kuroro pouted at his reaction. Why is he nervous?

"So he's to you what Shalnark is to me?" Uvo said, wigging his hairy eyebrows up and down at Kuroro. He nodded, then smiled apologetically in Kurapika's way.

"And what Machi is to Pakunoda!" Shalnark gleefully said, hoisting himself up on Kurapika's shoulder. Kortopi mimicked the behavior not to support Shalnark but to get an edge over him.

Kurapika stiffened again.

Kuroro brought his hands to his pockets. This was very strange. Kurapika usually didn't bat an eye at his other comrades but at the mention of Pakunoda Kurapika stilled.

Kuroro glanced over to see Kurapika biting his lips anxiously, avoiding his gaze. He could hear his ribs fracturing.

"In my culture, braiding another's hair is an act of forgiveness."

"Did you do something wrong?"

For a man that didn't look like it, he was sharp. The sting spiked in Kurapika's stomach, however. Even now, in the past self of the man he destroyed, it still ached. He was alive, however. That is what mattered, and then he and the others would go on and destroy everything he has ever known and loved. 

Kurapika tightened his grip on Uvo's hair. His hand was getting filthy-remnants of skin and dust was staining his white hands. Kurapika shuddered - the same hands pooled and drenched in blood. With red crimson coating his hands, Kurapika could feel a pulse on Uvo's head. Soon that artery would burst into extinction. It's all in his hands.

Uvo moved his head up, staring at him. Kurapika bit his lips, his mouth cracking from guilt. His smile awkwardly creaked back into place. He nodded as an apology, whether for the pause or something else. He does not know.

Kurapika worked on a particularly difficult knot. And that's what mattered right now, he was alive, smiling, and living with his friends. The pulse beat on.

"Yes, I hurt someone...No I killed them."

Uvo's eyes widened then he closed them. He fell backward and Kurapika had to awkwardly accommodate the boys' size on his chest. It was weird, in a different life would they have been friends?

Uvo would be easy to get along with and he seemed nice, he cared about his friends...even at the cost of his own life.

"I see, I felt your weird looks on me."

Kurapika stiffened, Uvo's hair felt stiff. The knots seemed impossible to untangle now, as Kurapika scrambled one black thread of hair. It wrapped and choked around Kurapika's hands.

"I forgive you."

"But? Why?" Kurapika clenched his hair tightly but let go at the groan of disapproval. Uvo rubbed his scalp and leaned backward to his original sitting position. He stared up at the ceiling and Kurapika followed his gaze.

"Because you helped my family and you saved _him_." Uvo pointedly tilted towards the living room. Where raucous laughter followed, "You so like him!" Shalnark shouted, prancing around from Kuroro's grip.

Kurapika imagined Kuroro smiling at him. Uvo probably did the same too.

"I'm also not one to hold grudges," Uvo guffawed. He coughed out disgustedly as if the very idea of petty was rotten to him. Kurapika let go of Uvo's hair. It fell delicately down to his back. Soon, very soon it would reach his lower back and...perhaps a little more.

"Leave it to the experts." Kurapika joked, knotting a beautiful fishtail. Uvo excitedly turned his head towards Kurapika and smiled gleefully. All his previous hard lines, masculine lines, are gone. But really they were never there: his face was all youth, chubby cheeks and pimples dotted around his chin.

A few stray hairs lined his nose lip and Kurapika could guess that he was very proud of them by the way he rubs them from time to time.

"I'm finished."

Uvo got up and walked over to a dripping puddle. The ashen water from the pollution still held some reflection as Uvo dropped to his knees and gazed.

"Think Shalnark will like it?"

Kurapika leaned in closer to the puddle, reflecting was an anxious child and him. Kurapika looked at Uvo, not the reflection, and smiled.

"He will love it."

\---  
Instead of Uvo dashing to meet Shalnark's reaction as Kurapika originally thought, Uvo instead climbed on his back and exclaimed in the living room that he was Kurapika's personal backpack.

"Quite the furry backpack." Machi mused, eating the Kurtan desert Kurapika made. Kortopi was next to her, begging her to share some. Meanwhile, Shalnark sat on her other side and sneaked in a few mouthfuls.

"It will keep you warm in the winter." Uvo agreed, wrapping his strong arms around Kurapika.

Kurapika grimaced at the young boy's strength. When his growth spurt hit, Kurapika couldn't imagine holding him anymore. Wait a minute.

Kurapika faltered. It's not like he could stay here for that long.

Kurapika coughed against his hand and looked away from Kuroro's anxious expression. 

Maybe he could make a difference. If he was summoned here, it must be for a reason.

Kurapika looked at Kuroro. Either to change his life or Kuroro's.

That is what led to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. FIRST OFF: THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR MESSAGES AND SUGGESTIONS! YOU ALL HAVE REVITALIZED MY LOVE FOR THIS FANFIC!
> 
> 2\. I have so many new ideas now! I'm definitely going to continue this! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> 3\. Also, would you guys prefer shorter chapters with faster update schedules or longer chapters and a longer update schedule?


	6. My First Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroro goes digging a bit on Kurapika and regrets it.

Kuroro didn't mean to steal it. Well, he did - but for good reason. Every question about Kurapika's life seemed vague and always leads to a dead end. It was like he didn't want to answer them as if they never happened.

Kuroro pouted. There must be a reason why Kurapika kept his mouth tight when he asked about his past. He still hasn't told him much about his 'friend'. He has made no moves to contact that friend either. It was suspicious, that was certain.

But there was one time, in the late afternoon where the world was quietly resting when Kurapika walked over to him, Kortopi snuggled deeply in his arms. Kuroro jumped up from his sitting, expectant and ready for whatever Kurapika wanted for him.

"Hey, I think you would like this," Kurapika sat down to his knees (and slightly but not close enough to touch skins) he sat down. Kuroro joined him swiftly. Brushing stray locks out of his hair, he held his hands together.

Kurapika's words coursed through Kuroro's head like a rushing stream. The book was about love (forbidden love). Mythical beings of light and darkness shrouded in mystery. Every step is a fascinating turn into a new world. It was a fascinating read judging by the bright smile Kurapika reserved just for him.

Kortopi yawned and wrapped himself deeper in Kurapika's embrace, he wrapped his fingers around Kurapika's hand.

"Mama,"

Kurapika lightly chuckled and rocked him back to fluffy sleep. Kurapika turned his gaze back at Kuroro and Kuroro jumped at the brightness of his eyes.

"You will love this story. I know it's your favorite and-" Kurapika continued, not quite realizing the little blip he let out.

Kuroro sucked in a breath. How would Kurapika know that? This would be the first time he would be reading this book. He had never heard of it before this moment.

Maybe Kurapika is just that in tune with him?

It could be possible. Kuroro liked to think so, so he settled closer to Kurapika and let him ramble on about the story. Finding the brightness that shone within him a perfect fire for the cold evening.

* * *

But the second time couldn't be a coincidence.

Kuroro's stomach tightened in something. Yet again, all these indecipherable emotions rolling around his insides whenever something related to Kurapika comes up.

This time truly wasn’t a coincidence. 

Kuroro brushes the spine of his Bandit’s secret, eyes darting back and forth to the assailant - a mafia thug, judging by the sneer and the suit - and Kurapika. His fighting stance was good, but every so often he would skip a step.

Kuroro kept baiting the mafia member to him, a cruel set of punches and swings. With every rapid-fire - the man used bullets as nen, interesting - Kuroro dodged as far away from Kurapika as possible. He wasn’t in the right condition to fight.

The assailant kept reaching over for Kurapika. Come on, Kurapika use that chain and then- 

Kurapika's eyes widened. Kuroro cursed and sprinted over to his side again, blocking a cluster of bullets with a metal shield nen. Kuroro spared a second to glance back at Kurapika. 

Meteor City protocols.

First, any signs of breathing? 

Kuroro cringed at the onslaught of bullets. Every clang rocking inside his skull. No time to focus on that. Kurapika, clear and fair. 

No red. No indication of vile gelatinous fluid pulsing out of him. Laying down, panting his breaths, and holding his mouth. He was clear as a sunny day. 

Good. 

As he should always be.

The next step. Kuroro crouched down closer to Kurapika. Was it his eyes or was Kurapika getting blurrier? Did he hit his head?

Kuroro gritted his teeth. No, now is not the time. He needs to make sure that Kurpaika is okay, that he is alive and there. 

Kuroro pushed a strand of golden hair away from his forehead. He peered up at him, eyes half-lidded and Kuroro ignored the fire in his stomach coiling.

He was breathing.

Kurapika is alive. He passed the Meteor city test. We could make a Meteor resident out of you, Kurapika. Kuroro brushed over to the next page of Bandits secret.

“Kuroro,”

Kuroro instinctively looked back at him, his grip on his book tightening at the sweat bead rolling off his neck.

“Use the umbrella deflector”

Kuroro stilled. That was a brilliant suggestion, and that is just what he needed. He stood protectively over Kurapika’s body and summoned the umbrella. 

Barrels of bullets coursed through the sky, each dripped and poured with enough poison to kill a bear. Kuroro could feel the venom fly through him - those could be useful for later. He always had an interest in poisons. He could put that book Kurapika recommended to good use.

The bullets came into the umbrella and hastily jumped back out to the assailant. Each whipping out in a satisfying orchestra of a rubber squawk.

Kuroro hastily sent him flying into an alley wall. Kuroro counted the seconds. Eight, Nine, ten….he wasn’t getting up. Heart thundering and ribs rocking to his labored breath at Kurapika. He was alright.

“Here let me, like before,”

Kuroro sat down next to Kurapika. He whisked his umbrella away and opted for something else. A gentle course of nen flowed through him, warming his beaten skin and slowing his racing heart.

It was soft like a song.

Kuroros hands conjured maple leaves. Vibrant in their color and pulsing with life’s song. He leaned forward and wrapped it around Kurapika’s neck and arms.

“When did you get this nen?” Kurapika coughed out, eyebrows raised as the maple leaves dissolved into his body.

“Oh, a while ago,” Kuroro shrugged, flopping himself closer to Kurapika’s warmth. Eager to accept the praise and gratefulness.

“It’s beautiful,” Kurapika sighed breathlessly, the maple leaves leaving his skin in an autumn hue that looked too good on him.

“I learned from the best,” Kuroro answered, reaching for Kurapika’s hands.

“So you did,” Kurapika brushed Kuroro’s locks, and Kuroro’s stomach danced with flames.

Nen could not even try to hide Kuroro’s insides wracking out of control, a bird in freedom soaring through his body.

But, a nauseous feeling overcame the high.

Kuroro stumbled back, his head a whirlwind of emotions crashing down around him.

He didn’t use that ability in front of Kurpaika before. 

So how did he know?

* * *

Kurapika would flicker ever so often - like the leftover light you see when you close your eyes. Kuroro frowned, it was like Kurapika was slowly fading from his view.

But this-

Kuroro held up a photo, bent and crumpled at the edges. Kurapika looked the same, all pretty smiles and fair skin but the other person - Kuroro leaned in closer to inspect the photo.

Kuroro doesn't know who this person is. He was taller than Kurapika and rather disgustingly had his arm wrapped snug around him. Disgust rolled off of him, this man wasn't smiling - no he was smirking - grinning at the fact that he had Kurapika wrapped in his arms.

And what was that EARRING?

Kuroro has never seen such a disgrace of jewelry. The color - turquoise really - horribly complimented his pale face. It looked like the earrings were suckling on his ears, too big for his size.

Was this Kurapikas type?

Kuroro's heart hammered in agony. He could be better. He could become WAY better.

His hands itched to crinkle the mystery man's face out of the picture and save it for himself. Capturing Kurapika's perfect smile in his pocket forever.

* * *

Even the stars were different here. Kurapika was used to bright summer flashing lights of stars in Lukso. The shining bugs surrounding his home and the blossom of clouds illuminating the moon’s gentle rays.

But this,

Ryuseigai was cruel, even Mother Nature ignored it.

There were no stars, only scraps of light tapping in and out. Kurapika adjusted his seat on the roof. The wind was cool and he needed some time to think. It wouldn’t be long before Kuroro found out and he always was so clever.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he fell in love with him. His quick-wittedness and his cool temperature lowering whenever their gazes met. 

What a sap.

Kurapika ignored the raucous thunder from below. Must be Uvo - a permeating high pitched shrill resounded - and Shalnark at it again.

He truly was getting used to their antics faster than he thought he would. Perhaps he could ask Machi more about their history later. 

“You should be careful,”

Kurapika felt whiplash. That voice. The ordered pose of a faithful woman drowned in his chains was alive.

A tall blonde woman sat down beside him, exuding elegance and strength in her steps. Kurapika shifted a bit away. It wouldn’t do good for her to realize.

“You may fall and Kuroro wouldn’t like that at all,”

“Or perhaps he would, he would love to take care of you. He loves the attention. Greedy bastard, don’t you think?”

“I guess, when you had nothing, it’s only normal that you would want everything,”

“No, Kuroro isn’t greedy like that.” Pakunoda turned to him and Kurapika felt a shiver ripple through his body. There is a hidden chilliness and protectiveness in her stance; it was the same expression he showed to those that endangered his friends.

“He is only greedy to things he likes,” Pakunoda noted, palm on her chin, looking at Kurapika as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Kurapika answered, looking at the roof hatchet. Picturing the young Kuroro waiting for him to get down safely.

“Just don’t break the boy king's heart too much when you have to go. There are not enough mops in the whole world to clean his tears,” Pakunoda said, standing up, wiping dust off her black pants.

Kurapika felt his answer stuck in his throat. But he couldn’t get them out. I’m sorry burned in his throat, etching his fears in his flesh.

But Pakunoda left.

And she left with a smile that reminded him of spring: blossoms and flowers. of rebirth and beginnings. Of forgiveness.

Kurapika stared back at the sky once again, smiling and wiping off his stray tears as one of the lonely stars finally got a pair to match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The meaning of the maple leaves: "In Japan and China, a red maple leaf represents a lover’s emblem and acts as a reminder of the beauty of love in everyday life. It’s also reportedly used to signify the sweetness that accompanies love in the initial stages of a relationship."
> 
> 2\. Writing in Kuroro's perspective is so hard. Would not recommend. Kurapika's perspective is so nice and flows better.
> 
> 3\. Comments and kudos are hella appreciated. Who knows I might just abandon it if I don't get some loving lmao.


	7. My First Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroro falls harder by the second...as do the rest of the Phantom Troupe.

“Here,” Kurapika gestured to the stunning...well thing before him. Kuroro’s eyebrows rose comically, he has never seen anything quite like that before. It wasn’t trash (Kurapika would never give him trash) or poison (yet again Kurapika is too sweet for that) or a weapon (the thing did look disarming but it seemed too _soft_ to be a compromising weapon).

In all the tattered books he has read, Kuroro could not identify the strange thing before him.

He turned to Kurapika’s direction and pouted his lips, hopefully in what he believed to be a disarming way.

“What is it?” Kuroro asked, searching for clues from Kurapika’s pleasant expression. Which for some reason fell, down-trodded. A surge of panic rose in his throat- did he? Was he the reason that Kurapika is upset now?

“Oh, right you never had it before,” Kurapika said, wistfully twirling his plastic broken fork around. 

“It’s a creme pudding. I think you’re going to love it.” There was a way that Kurapika said it that made it seem as though he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Either way, Kurapika made this...thing. And not only that, he made this for _him_. For the purpose and enjoyment of Kuroro. He made it. With love and sweetness, Kurapika was thinking of him. Which made the thing- the creme pudding all the sweeter.

“Okay, I think I will,”

The creme pudding was a food of some sort, there appeared to be a brown sauce on top of it with some leftovers on the plate, creating an island. It appeared very disarming but not very filling. This wouldn’t keep him full for a couple of hours. But, Kuroro glanced back at Kurapika's expectant expression and straightened his back. He could eat this. For Kurapika.

Before Kuroro could reach for the fork, Kurapika gently took a piece of the pudding with the fork and placed it near Kuroro’s face. Sweet. It wasn’t the pudding that was sweet but the delicate smile on Kurapika’s face.

“Say ah,” Kurapika mused, his lips upturned amusingly. Hand on his chin, moving the pudding closer to Kuroro’s mouth.

Kuroro couldn’t help feel a sting of annoyance gnawing in his mouth. He wasn’t a child. He could look after himself, perhaps one day he would be the one to look after Kurapika. The thought sat pleasantly on his stomach as Kurapika fed Kuroro his first bite.

Heaven.

This is what heaven must taste like. Kuroro didn’t notice he let out a satisfying noise until Kurapika giggled. Kurapika was right, this was- no this is his favorite. He chewed slowly and sucked on the pudding. Hoping to make it last longer.

“Amazing.”

“I knew you would love it,” Kurapika said, still giggling. He picked off a bigger piece and continued to feed Kuroro until all the syrup was drained by Kuroro's greedy stomach.

“I hoped you enjoyed it,” Kurapika said, his hands moving towards the plate to wash it off.

“Wait,” Kuroro stopped Kurapika and leaned in. There was a smudge of pudding still on Kurapika's mouth. With his hands-on Kurapikas soft shoulders, he reached forward and licked the mess off of his cheek.

“Yummy,” Kuroro commented, licking his lips.

Kurapika blinked. He smirked and flicked Kuroro’s nose. 

“Still the same even now,”

Kuroro lightly ignored the swell boring inside his heart. Kurapika _knows._ And that has made it all the sweeter.  
\---

From the course of the sun-shot moment, Kuroro waited. Kurapika was getting drowsy, the long hours of finding cloth for Machi and metal bits for Shalnark drowned down his energy. Kuroro pouted and prodded at the fair man to take it easy but as easily as ever Kurapika fluttered a dimpled smile his way and he was silenced.

Now, Kurapika was resting. He's back to the back of the wall and his breathing went into little pillows hush-hush. Pools of air wrapped around him. He still kept waiting. Until Kurapika's head lolled to the side (at which Kuroro sneakily pulled his arm around the man, pulling his head onto his shoulders).

Kuroro shuddered at the weight. Kurapika's soft breaths were whispering around his neck, skin to skin he could feel the gentle ebb of his aura. Soft. 

Kuroro has waited long enough. With a sweeping glance at the sleeping beauty, Kuroro fiddled with Kurapika's golden hair. It was silky. There was no dust, grime, or dandruff. It was clean, devoid of the hazardous marks that Ryuseigai spewed. Kurapika was walking heaven.

“Strange, it’s as if you’re getting clearer by the day,” Kuroro mused, poetry pulsing through his eardrums. He could scribe the way Kurapika’s eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings to his cheeks or the way his hair tangled perfectly with his raven locks.

Already Kuroro’s soul acted like a vacuum, absorbing every detail of Kurapika’s bright beauty.

“It’s impolite to stare, you know?”

Kurapika’s eyes shyly opened revealing sea-wave blue that swelled under Kuroro’s heart. His lips felt like sand. All the words he could find from all the words he learned and knew yet all he could muster was:

“Beautiful”

Kurapika's soft blush was more than enough for that. Luckily, Kurapika didn’t stray far from Kuroro's neck (which Kuroro rousingly took as a sign) he _wants_ to stay here. With him...possibly.

With a bashful look, Kurapika ruffled Kuroro's hair and he hates it, hates that Kurapika only sees him as a kid. That Kurapika could only and ever only see him as a child, limbs growing and mind-numbing to the grown-up world. He was mature, he was a leader in his world. But would that change Kurapika’s mind?

Kuroro huffed from the attention and turned his head towards the sky. From up there he could see Kurapika from the top.

One day he will make him see him as an equal. But for now, Kurapika ruffles his hair and fondly parts his hair like curtains. 

“You look handsome like this,” Kurapika stroked Kuroro’s hair fondly.

“But,” Kuroro slicks his hair back, “slicked back makes me look older,” and older makes him equal to Kurapika, reducing the gap that Kuroro wants to be desperately closed. Kurapika pouted, “that may be so,” Kurapika fondly ruffled his hair again.

”But I like you the way you are.”

 _But what if I don’t?_  
\--

Kurapika inspired him to write a journal. Not a book of poetry but to document his life. 

“But who cares? Who would read that?” a book about nobody from nowhere

Kurapika frowned. And Kuroro desperately tried thinking of ways to make his face relax and soften again.

Kurapika enclosed his hands with Kuroro's hands again. Which is another thing that is happening a lot more frequently now. Every so often, Kurapika would hold his marble sculpted hands with Kuroros grimy claws.

“I care. I would love to read it,” Kurapika answered.

“About what?”

Kurapika pursed his lips. Kuroro felt his hands become entangled with sweat, he hoped that Kurapika wouldn’t notice the dampness between his hands.

“About the things that are the most important to you,” Kurapika answered, pausing for a moment to let the words marinate in the air before squeezing Kuroro's hands as a request.

“Okay,” Kuroro sputtered out. 

\---

Kuroro scrambled his journal, it took all day to find a worthy ink for Kurapika’s journal and even longer to find words to fill it with. But then, Kuroro paused. He heard Kurapika’s bell song voice. Using his nen, he teleported to the springtime song and stopped in his tracks.

Kurapika and Feitan. Kuroro raised his eyebrows, Feitan was pulling on Kurapika’s pants. Not only was Feitan touching another human pleasantly but he was speaking. Kuroro’s eyes widened at the next words that Feitan grumbled out, Not only that but speaking in long sentences.

Kuroro could hardly believe it. Magic. Kurapika was teaching Feitan how to read and from the way, Feitan was rolling words back to him, Kurapika was teaching him how to speak as well!

“From the top, “ Kurapika began, gently setting a scrap of rock down from the wall.

“Ku” Feitan began, flicking his eyebrows up and down. Kurapika gave a reassuring smile and pointed to the next group of letters.

With a hesitant nod, Feitan continued. “Ra” Kurapika clapped his hands in praise. His honey gold eyes melting Feitan’s hesitation.

“Kurapi-ka”

“Yes, perfect! Now let's say it together.”

“Kurapika,” 

“Yay! Perfect,” Kurapika praised, clapping his hands together like an overly excited school teacher. Kuroro didn’t miss the way his heart pounded together with his claps.

“Kurapika, thank you,” Feitan began, kicking the dirt off the road. His eyes skewed up and down, his usual narrow gleam was gone. Faded in debris. Instead, cool gratefulness remained.

“My pleasure, now let’s move on to...Kuroro’s name in Kurtan,” Kurapika said, already drawing an elegant scrawl on the back of a broken building.

A fire burned from his insides, revealing to the outside world a fresh drop of red coloring his pale face. He thinks of me. Writes about me. Kuroro felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and he was careless to stop it

He lingered, copying and tracing the loops and lines Kurapika writes. Every word seemed to send a shiver to Kuroro; tasting the tongue of Kurapika, learning the way he thinks and speaks. It was like an inside dive into his brain. 

With every line he wrote, Kuroro felt like the invisible line between them was tightening. Shortening between them, there would always be a hidden part of Kuroro that is dyed with Kurapika. His heart was like snow under crimson skin. Melting from Kurapika.

Kuroro looked down at his writing. It was ugly...no where near as lovely as Kurapika’s penmanship but it was a start.

“Quwrof” 

His name is...was it Kurtan?

Kuroro repeated it to himself again. His name had the ghost of Kurapika’s language, the origin of his thoughts. Already, Kuroro’s brain thrummed with linguistics and phonology: was this a phoneme or an allophone? 

Was Kurtan a tonal language?

Kuroro looked back at his notes. Tiny. It was nothing. And for the first time, Kuroro found that books could not satisfy him. Kuroro's eyes naturally followed Kurapika, something was gnawing inside. An unquenchable curiosity boiling, boiling and boiling away.

\---

Kuroro sits cross-legged, in an abandoned garbage heap. The sun blocked by overhanging trash and crows cawed around him peckishly.

Kuroro holds the book that Kurapika recommended carefully. He devours the entire book in one sitting. the writing is nice but he wants to figure out why the main character reminds Kurapika of him. Kurapika thinks of me. He thinks of me so much it spills into other things. Kuroro brushes his chin with his crude nails. That must mean _something._

Kuroro reads the book over again. trailing the pages where Kurapika once touched. he hesitated in underlining sections about the main character. It might damage the book. Kurapika seems to be a person that won't appreciate dog ears and vandalism in a book. It might be too much.

And Kuroro always wanted more than what he had. This time wouldn’t be so different.

\--

When the sun dipped low into the abyss, Nobunaga came trotting over to Kuroro. His hair was bunched top knot and his attire was as dirty as always.

Kuroro frowned. It has been a while since he has last seen Nobunaga, he usually stays close to the group. What made him skitter away?

“Kuroro? Could I borrow that book?”

Ah, there it is.

“Sure, but I didn’t take you much of a reader,” Kuroro said, watching as Nobunaga crossed closer to him, his hair flipping madly from the searing winds.

“Ah well, I heard it’s good,” He answered, reaching for the book.

Nobunaga frowned. What was there to frown about? Usually, he wasn’t so sensitive about these things when -

“Boss, you’re not letting it go,”

Oh. Right to the book.

“Oh, here,” Kuroro said giving the book to Nobunaga with hesitancy, biting his lips. For some reason, he didn’t want to give it to him. Why? It’s just a book. A book about friendship, brotherhood...love. A book that Kurapika got for him - just for him- Kuroro bit his lips.

“Maybe I’ll read it out to you?” Kuroro offered it instead.

Nobunaga stood in shock as if he was surprised at the result. He nodded in understanding as if his unresolved question was answered.

“I was right. You changed.”

Kuroro floundered. Of course, he changed, people change and move on. His hair grew 1cm and Kurapika’s hair grew 2cm from his neck length. His eyes grew grayer and his skin roughed from the sun and winds.

“Everyone changed when _he_ came,” Nobunaga said, crossing his arms.

Irritation stung his body. It was obvious who Nobunaga was referring to.

“Is that a bad thing?” 

Nobunaga shifted, his legs turning weight from one side to the other.  
“No, not really. It's just different. Uhm, the book?”

Kuroro relaxed and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Not everyone can be as acceptable to change as others. Nobunaga just needs time.

“Alright, so it begins with the quote: “You, who was sent by God. Destroy everything without hesitation.”

Nobunaga's eyes glossed over, already enchanted into the fairytale-like book.

Kuroro's eye shone with triumph. No one could resist a good book, especially one recommended by Kurapika.  
\---

It has only been 3 days but…

Kuroros’s journal has finished. Pages fluttered with drawings of Kurapika, poetry on his skin and the little cracks of information Kurapika sprinkles on now and again.

In the margins of Kuroro's notes (a scraped-up receipt), he keeps track of all the little details Kurapika slips about himself. He was born in a lush forest, he can't pronounce Kortopis name without a cute little lisp coming by and he always wanted to have a puppy named Clover.

Kuroro let his head roll. He feels greed flow and ebb through him. For the first time, he wants to leave Meteor city, make a name for himself, he wants to live with Kurapika, possibly grow old with him, hold his wrinkled hands and...

...for the first time, his heartbeat played the song of life

he was not ready to die

not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Kurapika really be resolving the Phantom Troupe members trauma one by one


	8. My first crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika didn't lie. He merely omitted some details about himself.

  
  


“KURAPIKA!” Nobunaga ran up to Kurapika, his hair shaggy from the rain splashing his scraggly clothes askew.

“Yes?” Kurapika turned on his heels, his movements were a bit sharp - too sharp for the child running up to him like he got a medal and is showing off to friends.

Luckily, Nobunaga didn’t notice or didn’t care and ran up to him. He reached in his clothes and hastily brought out a large sword. Too big for his frame and too heavy for the slim contours of his body.

Nobunaga was shaking from the weight.

Kurapika grimaced and hurriedly picked it up before Nobunaga or the sword fell.

“Did you make it?” Kurapika asked, hiding the clenched emotions warping and fragmenting his brain. He was just a kid. He doesn’t know about the lives...the lives he and the others would ruin and kill and destroy and genocide-

“YES! It’s based on that cool samurai character from the book!” Nobunaga proudly declared, gesturing and mimicking the poses the character did. 

“Oh,” Kurapika said, he felt the sharp end and cringed at the blood already pooling on his hand. It was sharp enough to cut flesh. Sharp enough to easily decapitate someone. Without meaning to, Kurapika sighed and unsheathed the sword back into the cloth. 

Regretting the flash of hurt in Nobunaga's  _ innocent _ eyes. He was just a child. He didn’t know that this sword would be the one to slice a child’s neck off.

Nobunaga stopped shaking in place. “Is something wrong?” he made a move forward. Kurapika flinched and took a step back, subconsciously drawing his nen in.

“No!” Kurapika said, returning the weapon.

“I was just surprised at how sharp it was! You’re really talented,” Kurapika said, stepping away, creating distance between the weapon and himself. His voice was fragmented into parts, the cool metal evaporating from his hands.

“Oh. Thank you,” Nobunaga said, already his face easing into relaxation. But Kurapika could still detect hard lines of suspicion in his slender face.

“You could make a great sushi chef!” Kurapika said, clasping his hands together for dramatic effect. This was what Gon did - it made others happy and cheery again. He could act the part - be smiling and light the way for the Spiders.

The light in Nobunaga's eyes returned. “What’s sushi?”

Kurapika thanked Basho for never keeping his mouth shut. And so he prattled to Nobunaga about the culture and delicacies of raw fish and rice. He spoke of vast oceans, snowy mountains, and pink rainfall of crying flowers. With the slight curl of a smile forming on Nobunaga's fresh face, Kurapika could fear his fear shimmering down into nothingness.

That was the way he had to do it.

To save his family and friends.

“Tell me more about that legendary samurai!” Nobunaga asks, tugging on Kurapika’s grey shirt.

“Of course,” 

* * *

Kuroro does not like her.

She has murky stains of sweat and dirt. Her lips tainted with copper and mud, her eyes blown wide as if it was stretching in all sides. She is too wrong…

Yet why does Kurapika seem so enamored by her?

She was nothing special in Meteor city terms. She was plain, had no nen - completely and utterly average.

And yet.

Kuroro can’t help but watch. Watch as Kurapika helps her and Kuroro fidgets, trying to assess if she is pretty. He calls her sick and weird. But that doesn't stop him from wrinkling his eyes the same way she does when she smiles or copies her elegant mannerisms when he sees Kurapika come by.

“This is Oito, she is the one I was talking about-the friend I wanted to meet,”

Kurapika explains, perfectly all his words displayed nicely like music notes in an ancient book he once read.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kuroro,” She says in the fake elegant way - as if she were royalty in the way she curtsied and bowed. Not the Ryuuseigai filth they all were.

Kuroro nodded. He doesn’t want to spare any words for her. He was already having a hard time not sneering her way.

“How long have you known her?” he asks Kurapika, focusing and breathing in the micro-expressions on Kurapika’s face. Anything to give him away - a slight divot in his brow, the tiniest crease in his mouth, a far off look in his honey pot eyes.

“A long time,” Kurapika answered. Kuroro refused to show his impending scowl. Of course, he would have known her for a long time. Longer than him.

“Yes,” Oito said, rubbing her greasy black hair and looking down at the ground. Kuroro felt a tug on his mouth. Oito was easier to read through than Kurapika.

She was lying.

* * *

There was something peculiar in their relationship. It wasn’t the warm ruckus causing familiarity between Shalnark and Uvo, or the understanding of quick looks between Machi and Pakunoda. 

It was, as Kuroro would think. The relationship he has with his intels. A business relationship where they both receive something.

Kuroro thought of this when Oito stumbled (no less from Uvo’s friendly pat on her back) that Kuroro did not order at all and Kurapika immediately pulled to her and drew her against his chest.

Kuroro closed his fists. But despite the annoyance shaping his thoughts. There was something. It's something that has given their relationship away.

The timing and gestures between them were too political to be friends. And too chummy to be anything else.

A close business relationship would have to be it. Or perhaps a past one.

Either way, as Kuroro pulled Kurapika’s hands away from  _ hers _ and into his, he had nothing to worry about.

* * *

If Kuroro was a poet, he would say that Kurapikas hair was like summer gold, his lips as red as licked red candy, especially after a difficult mission, his lips prettily plump.

But Kuroro’s favorite expression on Kurapika’s face was his face.

Even if that smile was meant for somebody else.

Kuroro rises on his tippy toes to see Kurapika admiring the picture. The picture he stole and scowled and hated and returned.

And now Kurapika was smiling at the ugly man. 

The man had an egg shape to his features and fashion sense of the darkest of nights.

“Is he that special to you?” Kuroro asks, sitting next to Kurapika.

“I knew you were behind me,” Kurapika answered, patting the ground next to him, beckoning him closer and closer to his space. “And yes to answer your question, he is”

Kurapika answered thoughtfully. His lips turned upright like flowers to the sun. No doubt imagining that horrid person.

“Oh,” Kuroro said. Looking away from Kurapika’s softly cruel gaze.

“Why do you look so surprised ~~sad~~?” 

“Does he make you happy?” Kuroro asked, rolling his heels in the dirt. Creating dust clouds and dirtying his shoes.

“Yes, he does,” Kurapika answers, never letting go of eye-contact. It felt weird - unnerving as if he was talking about Kuroro rather than the strange figure in the photo.

“Oh...Do I?” Kuroro asked, biting his lips down to prevent them from quivering.

“Yes, very much,” Kurapika answers cheerily. His bell-like laugh encompassed him in billows of pink warmth again.

“I’m glad,”

Neither of us says anything. Each of us enjoying our own version of intimacy. The way Kurapika’s hands sway protectively over my head - blocking the harsh sun rays as if Kurapika’s skin wasn’t fraying away at the seams.

Kuroro pulled off his rotten jacket. It was a gift from Machi, weathered and worn but it kept him warm and blocked the wind and sand. And now, Kuroro will do the same for Kurapika.

Kuroro covered Kurapika from the wind and sun. The sun's rays harshly blotched his skin but the smile and airy light from Kurapika’s gratefulness kept him cool.

“Kurapika, where will you go?”

“What do you mean?”

“As in...when you’re done with  _ her _ \- where might I find you?”

“Oh...Kuroro,” Kurapika looked away and Kuroro could feel cracks in his heart. The sharp end bleeds into his arteries and bleeds insides a glossy red hue.

“You must know that there are no absolutes in this world,”

“What do you mean?” Kuroro answered, careful to enunciate each word perfectly. Choosing to focus on the words rather than what was going on.

“It’s just that...actually,” Kurapika answered, swirling his head back. 

But then he did the most sudden thing. Unexpectedly, his eyebrows rose and he smiled and steadied himself with both hands.

“I think I want to stay,” Kurapika says, not quite looking at Kuroro. 

“Stay with me?” Kuroro asked, hopeful. He could tolerate Oito if it meant that Kurapika would stay here as long as possible. It was a generous by-product. His time with Kurapika is a warm, undeserved by-product of things he cannot control.

“Yes. With you,” Kuroro’s heart burned.

Kuroro tried his best to smile, he forced his muscles to pull at the edges and lifted his heavy eyelids up.

But they both knew he was lying.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :>
> 
> 1\. Oito makes an appearance! too bad Kuroro is too jealous to realize their similarities.  
> 2\. Kurapika inspired Nobunaga for his horrible fashion attire and his desire to become a samurai.  
> 3\. Kuroro wants more of what he can't get.
> 
> comments and kudos are VERY APPRECIATED lol


	9. My First Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroro learns who hurt Kurapika and who also loved him...

Kuroro shuffled through the pages. Kurapika couldn’t leave! He just came here. Kuroro wouldn’t allow someone like Kurapika to slip from his fingertips. Kuroro's eyes widened at the pages his fingers subconsciously landed on.

Chains.

A cold tremor rippled through his body. As if he was another person, in another lifetime staring at a cold figure dripping with revenge and fury. Kuroro shook the cold out of him, whoever that person was could not fathom the fire and warmth that Kurapika gave Kuroro. Kurapika gave him light. A way out.

Kuroro tenderly traced the page. And he would be damned if Kurapika were to get away now.

He violently ripped the paper out of his Hunters Bandit. Kuroro grimaced, he didn’t like letting go of treasure, especially something that was dear to him. He could feel cold metal kissing his skin goodbye.

Kuroro scanned the ripped paper in contempt. His fingers rubbed the corner and he read the conditions until…

Kuroro bit his lips, a gnawing grotesque feeling eroded his insides and pushed his organs out.

What had he done?

* * *

“Kurapika!” Kuroro ran to him. 

“Are you here to give me back my nen?” Kurapika asks in that motherly tone that he  _ hates. _

Kuroro ignored Kurapika's glare and pushed the torn paper to him. His hands shaking, his lips quivering, he let Kurapika read his nen conditions.

Through a tear-stained voice, Kuroro asks:

“Who hurt you?”

Kurapika's eyes downcast as if someone pulled the sun away from the sky. His body shook with a heavy sigh as if he had seen too much, known too much, and lived too long.

“Tell me!” Kuroro gasped out, his voice  _ shaking. _

The world was blurry-

“Why would you- you can’t do that!” Kuroro cries out, his fingers crumpling the paper. As if it will undo the damage nen caused. Sucking out nen’s forces, as if it could give Kurapika his life back.

“I can’t believe you would kill- do that to yourself,” Kuroro

Kuroro collapsed. His knees hugged the dirt and his face crumpled with emotions swirling around him. Emotions he could not understand whacking his mind up and down.

“I want you alive,” Kuroro croaks out, between sobs. Encased in Kurapika’s hug that felt too sad. Too wrong. This felt more like a goodbye embrace than an apology.

“With me…” Kuroro whispers, pulling Kurapika closer to him. Feeling his warmth, his existence beating between his chest. He was alive. He was here. 

“Who did that to you?” Kuroro asks, brushing Kurapika’s golden fairy-tale-like hair out of his forehead. Kuroro could never forgive someone who made Kurapika go through drastic measures. They would have to pay.

A worthy death.

“They’re horrible- I hate them,” Kuroro could never know he could feel so much hatred. A vortex of what he thought was hell flame, acid skinning his insides turned out to be nothingness. He could not think except to feel numb blind anger.

“I forgave him,”

Kuroro stilled. His nen silently vanished

“I forgave him a long time ago because,”

Kurapika pulled Kuroros's chest apart. Staring into those pretty brown eyes, Kuroros's breath was stolen all over again.

“Because I fell in love with him again,”

“So please forgive him”

“But don’t forget,” Kurapika croaked out, his eyes closed and held Kuroro like a lifeline - a tether.

Kuroro doesn’t know if he can do that. Anyone hurting Kurapika is a crime in and out of itself but whoever this person was, had a piece of Kurapika in his heart and head. He means something to Kurapika. And he doesn’t know if he wants to cry because Kurapika is hurting or because he could mean that much to Kurapika.

With all the reasons gone. Kuroro dived into Kurpaika’s arms and sobbed and sobbed.

* * *

“You shouldn’t forgive people so easily,” Kuroro said, holding Kurpaika's hand steadily. They were walking back home...well Kuroro’s home.

“You shouldn’t steal,” Kurapika countered, letting Kuroro walk on the thin iron fence posts.

“Fair,” Kuroro answered back, easily walking through the sharp cracks and spaces between one fence post to another.

“But,” Kuroro turned towards Kurapika again. His hair flows around him, framing his world in black streaks. Kuroro didn’t plan on speaking, but the thought welled up in him and spilled out.

“When you leave,” Kuroro bites the inside of his mouth, emotions drain and clog his throat. He jumped down and steadily looked Kurapika in his beautiful, beautiful eyes. Kuroro forced the words out - neverminding the gorging bile in his esophagus.

“Can I find you?”

“You would have to wait a long while,” Kurapika mused, rubbing the inside of his pants.

“I wouldn’t mind. Not if it’s you,” Kuroro offered, giving Kurapika his lifetime if he wanted to. 

“It's not distance. But rather.... - rather a distance of time,” Kurapika says lightly, brushing his hair back, revealing pink gnashes raw on his neck and shoulders.

“What?” Kuroro croaked out. He  _ knows.  _

Kuroro already had an inkling. It couldn’t be...but if there was, he would still try hard to find him.

“I’m not from here. Not from this time.”

“I should have known,” Kuroro admonished himself. The clues, the looks, the evidence were staring at him: the way Kurapika didn’t seem to belong  _ here _ . Not just physically but dimensionally he isn’t where he is supposed to be. His skin, the weathered nen use, his knowledge of Kuroro...everything made sense.

“You wouldn’t have known. You’re just a baby,” Kurapika paused, his expression muting to pain, and Kuroro wanted to cry. 

“I...I will find you,” Kuroro pledges. His nen pulsing through him and into his heart; a weight and chain formed desperately inside. He will find Kurapika. No matter the time, distance, anywhere Kurapika is - Kuroro wants to be.

“I’ll be waiting,” Kurapika responds and together they walk back. Kuroro’s sweaty small hands were completely dwarfed by Kurapikas.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if the world was just us?” Kuroro asks, scrambling to catch Kurapika’s hands before it falls away. A world filled with two of them. If life were as kind, Kuroro could almost call it heaven.

“Hmm, yeah,” Kurapika answers absentmindedly, pulling Kuroro along away from the sun’s rays.

“And Kurapika?” Kuroro asked, plunging all thoughts away for just this one moment. His silver eyes blazed with passion. If he isn’t going to do this now. He would never do it.

Kuroro gently clasped his hands together and reached up to Kurapika’s height.

Kurapika, curious to see what the boy would do, bent down slightly and tilted his head.

“You see,” Kuroro leaned in closer.

“You’re kinda my type.”

Kurapika flushed.

And it was the prettiest color Kuroro ever saw in his life.

Ruby-red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. constructive criticism very much appreciated!!!  
> 2\. comments too!  
> 3\. if not, i will join the jujutsu kaisen fandom and write tojifushigo...
> 
> hold hands with my twitter: everlemon1


	10. My Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika has to go but Kuroro is not ready yet to leave the most important person in his life.

Everything is different. The air pressure, the way the sky looked dreary and drenched with waiting tears, even the way his voice cracks out into the wind is different. It was all because of one man.

“I don’t know about right or wrong anymore,” Kuroro confessed, glancing at his nen book. Pictures of stolen techniques etched perfectly were there. He didn’t know whether to wretch it all back into his book and never look back or rip every page until he could find one that would make Kurapika stay.

Kuroro sits down on the grimy floor. He huddles his bruised knees closer and wraps his tiny arms around himself. Encasing and replicating the warmth of Kurapika’s burning skin.

He recounts Kurapika’s thoughts, feelings, hints of expressions, and conversations over and over again. If he tried hard enough, he could taste the cherry perfume adorning his neck. Nostalgic.

“I like everything is changing,” Kuroro says, bunching Kurapika’s coat around him.

“How so?” Kurapika asks, palm resting on his chin, gazing at Kuroro like he hung the stars.

“The things I did in the past and the things I want to do in the future don’t link up. Nothing makes sense. And instead of ruminating over that.” Kuroro fondly rubs the worn material over his scrapped fingers and looks at Kurapika.

Really looks at him.

“I’m just going to where the flow leads me.”

“Can I tell you what I think?” 

“Of course.” Kuroro answers, the world through Kurapika’s eyes must be treasured and stored in each canvas and crevice of his mind.

“I think,” Kurapika says, reaching out and slicking back Kuroro’s bangs to the sides. “You’re making up for lost time.”

Kuroro considers this.

“I think you’re right. So many things have been stolen in my life and this time I want to be the one that steals it back.”

“I see.” Kurapika answers. His face slackens at the black brand on his forehead. Blackened and sharp lines drawn over into a cross.

Don’t look at me like that. When you look at me, why do you always look so sad? Kuroro thought sorrowfully.

Worried that he might get up and leave, Kuroro rocks his head for thoughts to keep him here. But before Kuroro can, Kurapika picks up a flower. He spins it by its stem, considers it for a moment, and holds it to Kuroro's face. “Look, it matches your eyes perfectly.” 

* * *

Kuroro would never tell Kurapika this.

He bunches his dirty hands into a fist. He cleans it to the best of his abilities with the puddles dripping around him. It won’t be as good as the real thing, Kuroro thinks, picking off a plastic end off his fist.

Kuroro scrunches his lips. This is how he is supposed to do it right?

Kuroros silver eyes narrowed in concentration. He will do this right for Kurapika.

* * *

And like an omen, it all came too soon. Too quick. He wasn’t ready. But Kuroro would be lying if he said that he was ever ready to say goodbye.

“Kuroro, I have to go.” Kuroro grasped his suit edge.

“You’re leaving now?” Kuroro tugged on Kurapika’s white shirt. Kuroro frowned and pulled him back.

“For good?”

Kurapika sighed, and he gently nodded. It was time to go, he felt nen’s effect surround his being, soon he would return to his time. He would return to his Kuroro’s arms and hold him in understanding. He finally understood a part of him.

The calloused hands, the calculating gazes, and the slow, sharp way he ate. [his love and care for the high-end. The high-rise apartments and the luxury products and designer suits he wore. He wanted what he couldn’t have.

Kurapika gazed at the young Kuroro with unsung tears in his eyes. This Kuroro would be no different. Always wanting what he couldn't have.

Kuroro still hasn’t let go of his white shirt. It was tearing at the edges, Kuroro was gripping it with his remaining strength. He was clinging to him. He didn’t want to let go.

Kurapika’s heart clenched. It was only for a few days but somehow he became attached to this younger Kuroro.

Kurapika felt tears annoyingly prickle at his eyelids. He turned his back to Kuroro and wiped his tears. When he looked back at his hands, he saw frayed skin. He has to go now...his body is rejecting this time.

Kurapika looked back at Kuroro and the familiar swish of his earring was gone. He felt for his left ear and felt nothing. He frowned for a pretty second.

Kuroro smugly grinned at him, a pearly red earring on the palm of his hand.

"So that I could give it back to you when I find you," Kuroro explained, clasping the earring around his tiny hands.

Kurapika’s heart hushed out a melody. His familiar love for Kuroro came rushing back at him. He closed Kuroro's hands with him.

"Something to remember you by?" Kuroro pleads, his hands curl protectively over the remnant.

When Kurapika eventually forgets him, Kuroro will do his best to remember all of Kurapika

_ I'll lessen the burden, I'll be the one that remembers all of you _

“One last request?” Kuroro asks, hands still stubbornly holding Kurapika’s shirt.

“Yes?”

“A kiss?”

Kurapika’s eyes blossomed like forbidden flowers. The flowers he saw in pictures but more familiarly the color of freshly ripped blood.

“Okay,” Kurapika accepts and Kuroro rises to his tippy-toes.

He wraps his arms around Kurapika's waist (his arms too tiny to embrace his neck). 

Kurapika leaned in for a sweet kiss on his cheek.

But like the thief he is, Kuroro turns and they wonderfully kiss.

Kurapika blinks in surprise and gently lets Kuroro go. Kuroro’s world was twirling on its axis and he steadied himself by holding Kurapikas warm hands. He was never going to wash his lips again.

Kuroro hoped that the kiss was memorable. He couldn’t bear telling Kurapika the hours he spent practicing kisses on his hands. 

“Oh, Kuroro,” Kurapika says, wrapping his body around Kuroros's frame. Kuroro tried to ignore the cries pushing inside Kurpaika’s body.

_ I wanted to be happy for once, but that made you cry _

Kuroro could not fathom why the world had to be so selfish. Taking the one good thing from his life away. Kuroro does not understand why he couldn’t feel Kurapika’s warmth until the world blurs and he realizes he is crying.

Kuroro brushes his locks out of his forehead and locks his hands together behind him. Kurapika’s earrings are engraved with  _ Kuroro Lucilfer _ . So, future-me is going to have Kurapika as a lover. He smirked. He was damn lucky.

Kurapika makes me feel as if I was something, Kuroro thinks, kissing the earring.

He stared at the red earring, he couldn't wait for the future to come already...He was already missing the blond man.

* * *

Epilogue:

Kurapika turned over. The bed seemed less comfortable than he remembered. If anything, he preferred the shy warmth from Kuroro…

Kurapika lays down on the bed, he feels his body relax and his body warm from the single thought of young,baby Kuroro.

Kurapika smiles sadly. He could still feel the persistent hands hugging his body and the inner strength of Kuroro pulling Kurapika to his body.

Kurapika frowns. He wants his husband around him and kiss him out of the sad memories fluttering in his mind.

“Kuroro, sweetie,” Kurapika murmurs, turning over to reach his sleepy husband.

Cold.

Kurapika pats the right side of the bed. Confusion turned to icy dread. 

Kuroro isn’t there.

Kurapika felt for his left hand.

So is his wedding ring.

Kurapika sat up in bed and realized that all of Kuroro’s possessions are gone. 

Their wedding picture, their books, and the gifts Kuroro gave to Kurapika are gone - but rather it seemed like it never existed in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THATS THE END OF MY FIRST AND LAST
> 
> Thank you for reading it all and supporting me with comments and kudos!
> 
> P.S
> 
> I have a sequel planned for my first and last! It will be published detailing what happened to future kuroro, the timeline and the everything else unresolved!


End file.
